eight

“Will you stay for dinner, Martin?” asked the Empress, as she sheathed the knife and returned to her seat. “Or at least for tea–surely you can find time for that? This occasion must be celebrated.”

“Your Majesty is gracious,” replied Martin. “But I have . . . other commitments.” His eyes slid away from Rhosmari’s accusing gaze, ignoring the still-bleeding hand she cradled against her breast. “I beg you will excuse me.”

“Martin,” said the Empress, still pleasantly but on a crisper note, “I wish you the joy of your new freedom. But I think you may find that such independence is less fulfilling than you suppose.”

“I will take that risk, Your Majesty.” He bowed a final time, and disappeared.

Rhosmari was left alone in the center of the carpet, facing the Empress. Her heart felt as though it were trying to climb out of her throat. But she reminded herself that she was the daughter of Lady Celyn, and kept her head high and her back straight, though beneath her flowing skirt her knees were trembling.

“Oh, child.” The Empress’s face softened. “The worst is over, I assure you. You are safe now.”

“Safe.” She forced the word out. “How so?”

“Because you are with me,” the Empress told her. “This estate is warded on every side, so no enemy can approach without my knowing it. You will have a comfortable bed to sleep in, and fresh clothes to wear, and food as fine as you could wish for–Sarah, our hostess, is a wonderful cook. And I will be glad of your company, for the days are long and lonely when my lieutenants are abroad.” She gave a little smile as she glanced from one Blackwing to another. “I have been yearning for a chance to talk to one of the fabled Children of Rhys. Corbin, bring a chair for our guest–Rhosmari, is it?”

The Empress knew Rhosmari’s true name, a secret so precious that she had never spoken it aloud, let alone shared it with anyone. She could summon Rhosmari with a thought, and force her to do anything she wanted. But it seemed that she did not know everything about her–at least not yet. Biting her dry lips, Rhosmari sat down in the armchair Corbin Blackwing had provided for her, and willed herself to stay calm. Perhaps she could still prevent the Empress from finding out too much about the Green Isles, if she kept her answers brief and careful.

“You may go now,” the Empress said to the Blackwings. “I shall see you at supper tonight.” She lifted a hand, and one after another the twins stooped to kiss it. Then they vanished.

“I apologize that I cannot give you quite as much liberty as Corbin and Byrne,” said the Empress to Rhosmari. “You see, I dare not let you go until I am certain that you pose no threat to me. So . . .” She folded her hands together and rested her chin on them. “You may not use magic anywhere within the bounds of this estate, except at my command. Nor can you step through any of the outer doors of the house, or climb out any of the windows, or leave it by any other means, unless I allow it.”

Until now, Rhosmari had thought that being controlled by the Empress would be an awful blank, an unknowing. She had expected to lose all sense of right and wrong, and have no desire but to do what she was told. But it was nothing like that at all. She still felt the same as she always had, yet when the Empress gave her an order, she was powerless to disobey.

And somehow, that was even worse.

“There,” said the Empress. “Now, are you thirsty? I can have Sarah bring us some lemonade, if you like.”

So this was how it would begin. A long, torturous interrogation, with every answer dragged out of her by force. The Empress might think that she could disarm Rhosmari with her pleasant manner, but she would never forget what Linden and Timothy had said about her.

“How frightened you look!” The Empress’s brows drew together in concern. “Do you really think me so terrible? I assure you, it is not so. I take no pleasure in cruelty, and I abhor violence.”

“And yet you steal faeries’ names,” said Rhosmari tightly, “and force them to do your will. How is that not terrible?”

The Empress sighed. “It is true,” she said. “I do. And I have often wished that there were another way. Controlling my subjects is tiresome, and demeaning for both of us; I would be far happier if I never had to do it, and I try to do it as little as possible.”

Her eyes became distant, gazing into the shadows at the edge of the room. “But I am only one faery, with a burden for my people’s best interests that not all of them are quick to embrace or even understand. And too many times I have been betrayed, and had my trust and my confidence cruelly abused, by those I believed faithful. Can you blame me for wishing to be absolutely certain of my followers, and not merely hopeful of their obedience?”

“But I am not your follower,” Rhosmari said. “I am not one of your people at all. You have no right—”

“Forgive me,” said the Empress, “but I could not risk losing you before we had a chance to talk together. You have no idea how it alarmed me when I learned of the Stone of Naming, and found that your people had given it to Rob to help him in his rebellion. What else was I to think, but that the Children of Rhys had taken it upon themselves to overthrow my empire and set their own rulers up in my place?”

Shock hit Rhosmari like a cold wave, stealing her breath away. “You mean–you actually believed–that we wanted to start a war?”

“I hoped not, but I had no way to be certain,” the Empress replied. “Even my best sources could tell me little about your people’s history, or what you were like. And all my attempts to find out where you lived, so I could send emissaries to you with an offer of peace, were in vain. So when Martin offered to buy his freedom by bringing me one of the Children of Rhys . . .” She spread her hands. “How could I refuse?”

Rhosmari exhaled slowly. She still did not believe that the Empress’s control of her people was justified, and Martin’s deceit still sickened her. But if there was any possibility that all this was a misunderstanding, and that there was still a chance to make peace before her mother sent an army onto the mainland, then she had to try.

“We never meant to give the Stone of Naming to Rob,” she said. “It was stolen from us and given to Linden and Timothy, who took it to the rebels. We have no desire to make war with you, or to overthrow your empire. All we want is to get back the Stone.”

The Empress’s lips parted. “Truly? Then I have no need to fear an invasion, or that your people plan to support the rebels against me?” She clasped her hands together. “This is the best news I could have hoped for!”

“My people have sworn not to shed blood,” Rhosmari said. “We would never willingly start a war with you. All we want is to live in peace in our own land.”

“You cannot imagine what a comfort this is to me,” said the Empress. “So why did you come into my domain, then? Where were you going when Martin found you?”

“I was looking for the rebels,” said Rhosmari, “because I had heard that they had the Stone, and I hoped I could talk them into giving it back.”

The Empress threw back her head and let out a peal of laughter. “You really believed that they would?” she said. “Pardon me if I sound ungracious, but only a child could be so naive. They will never give up the Stone, now that they know what it can do. Why should they?”

Rhosmari held her breath, fingers digging into the arms of her chair. So the Stone had not been lost in the battle of the Oak, or fallen into the Empress’s hands. It was still with the rebels, wherever they were.

“If I believed you had any chance of succeeding in your quest,” the Empress continued, “I would release you this very moment. I would be glad to see the Stone taken back to its rightful place, never to trouble me or my people again. But I fear all that will have to wait until I have dealt with this irksome rebellion.”

She rose from her chair, favoring Rhosmari with a maternal smile. “See how easy this was? And I did not have to compel you to answer even once. I hope we can have more such pleasant talks in future. But I am weary from all this excitement, and you must be as well. Why don’t I call Sarah, and see about finding you a room?”

•••

Rhosmari did not feel like answering when the bell rang for supper, but she had no other choice. She had spent most of the afternoon trying to make herself Leap back to the village or climb out the window, without success, and if the Empress had to summon her by name it would only make her humiliation worse.

She was halfway down the stair when some instinct made her glance to her left. There hung the same picture of Philip Waverley that had caught her eye before, but now the glamour that had hidden its true appearance was gone. Savage parallel slashes crossed the portrait like the claw-marks of some vengeful beast, tearing the canvas into strips and rendering the face unrecognizable.

Who had destroyed it? And why only that one, of all the paintings in the house? Rhosmari had no way to tell. But it reminded her that no matter how sweetly the Empress spoke or how graciously she behaved, she was still willing to use violence when it suited her–and was not above using deceit to hide it. Suppressing a shudder, Rhosmari descended the rest of the stairs, and made her way to the dining room.

Silver cutlery gleamed on white linen, and candlelight washed the room in gold. The Empress sat at the head of the long table, with the two Blackwings at her right hand and a female with pale, feathery hair to her left. “Ah, there you are,” she said as Rhosmari came in. “Our honored guest. Please, sit down.”

Rhosmari pulled out a chair at the other end, as far from the Empress as she could get without leaving the room. No sooner had she sat down than the side door opened and Sarah came in, staggering beneath the weight of a steaming soup tureen. Setting it down on the table, she began ladling out the contents with elaborate care.

“Bouillabaisse,” said the Empress. “How splendid. Do you enjoy seafood, Rhosmari? Do your people eat it often?”

Rhosmari did not want to answer that question. She did not want to speak at all. She would rather eat a thousand silent meals at her mother’s table, or even starve, than make dinner conversation with the woman who had enslaved Llinos, and had now stolen her own freedom as well.

Fortunately, the Empress did not seem offended by Rhosmari’s silence. She turned instead to the female faery beside her. “Tell me,” she said. “How have you fared today?”

“I tracked down three renegades,” came the proud reply. “They escaped, but not before I had taken their blood.” She reached into her jacket pocket, but the Empress stopped her with a shake of the head.

“Not at the table, Veronica,” she said. “Think of our guest.”

Color stained Veronica’s high cheekbones, and the look she shot Rhosmari was almost venomous as she crushed a handful of crackers into her soup. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

All the while the elderly woman moved about the table, setting out baskets of crusty bread on each end and pouring glasses of wine and water. Rhosmari watched her, puzzled and a little disturbed. Humans did not have true names like faeries did; they could be confused and made forgetful by magic, but not easily controlled. And not even the most powerful faery could enter a human house without invitation, so this woman must have welcomed the Empress willingly. Did she not realize how much the Empress despised her kind, or did she not care?

“That will be all, Sarah,” said the Empress, and meekly the woman retreated, leaving the faeries alone.

“You have trained her well,” said Corbin, sipping his wine. “I have not tasted such excellent food and drink in years. Still, does it not bother you to have her always shuffling around?”

“She cannot help her age,” replied the Empress. “Indeed, I am impressed that she carries herself as well as she does. Rhosmari, you are not eating. Does the meal not please you?”

Rhosmari stared into her soup. Its savory smell made her stomach cramp with hunger. But she still could not bring herself to eat.

“Or is it our conversation you find distasteful?” the Empress continued. “Are you fond of humans, perhaps?”

“I am not fond of humans,” Rhosmari said. “I only think. . .” But then she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. She was no longer sure what she thought.

“Perhaps you have heard that I believe all humans to be worthless,” said the Empress. “It is not so. I have known humans who are gentle and good-hearted, and who cause no harm to anyone. But sadly, there are many others who are not so self-controlled, and they bring shame and trouble upon all the rest. Humanity needs to be tended like a garden, and the bad ones weeded out, or else they will destroy themselves and us as well.”

“I think we all know one human who could use some weeding,” said Byrne, and Veronica made a face into her wine glass. Rhosmari was wondering who they could be talking about when the Empress said with a little sigh, “Ah, yes. Timothy.”

“Why?” The question leaped past Rhosmari’s lips. “What did he ever do to you, that you hate him so much? He’s just a boy—”

“Ah, so you have met him,” said the Empress, unruffled. “I wondered. A talented young man, not unattractive in his way, but regrettably prone to violence. Did he tell you, when he came to visit your people, that I had condemned him and his faery companion to death? It was not true. I sent the Blackwings after Timothy and Linden for the same reason I allowed Martin to go after you: because I wished to talk with them, and they would not come to me any other way.”

“I know that Veronica tried to steal his music,” said Rhosmari flatly.

“She was charmed by his guitar playing, and wanted to taste what it felt like to be so gifted. And she was viciously attacked for it. Did Timothy tell you that?” The Empress laid down her soup spoon and leaned forward, eyes holding Rhosmari’s. “Did he tell you how he and his friends repeatedly injured and abused my Blackwings, though they had done nothing to hurt any of them? Or did you know that at Sanctuary, Timothy knocked me down and attempted to strangle me, and so began the battle?”

“I- I can’t believe—” Rhosmari stopped, flustered, and then tried again. “There must have been a reason.”

“I offered Linden and her people a bargain,” the Empress told her. “An opportunity for the Oakenfolk to get back the magic they had lost, and to live peacefully ever after under my protection. I assured her that I would not harm Timothy in any way, only erase his memories of the past few days so that he would not be tempted to meddle with my people again.” She touched her throat, her expression sorrowful. “Ask yourself this: even if they did not wish to accept my offer, did that justify assaulting me and starting a war?”

There was more to the story. There had to be. And yet . . . Rhosmari put a hand to her forehead, her thoughts whirling. Could it be that the Empress was not as evil as she had been led to believe? That Timothy and Linden had misunderstood her, as Rhosmari herself had done?

No. Wait. She had not misunderstood one thing, at least. “You captured Llinos,” she accused. “You made him your slave, and then you sent him out to find other rebels and capture them as well. What excuse do you have for that?”

The Empress and her lieutenants all exchanged glances. Then the Empress turned back to Rhosmari and said, “I beg your pardon. But who is Llinos?”

Disbelieving, Rhosmari darted her gaze from Corbin to Veronica to Byrne, then back to the Empress again. Their faces looked genuinely bewildered, without a hint of anger or guilt. “He was with Lily.” she said. “One of your most loyal servants?”

“Lily, loyal?” Veronica almost choked on her soup with laughter. “After Rob, Lily was one of the first faeries to touch the Stone. She is as eager to overthrow the Empress and seize control of her realm as he is. And if this Llinos was with her, then you can be certain that he is one of the rebels as well.”

A chill crept up Rhosmari’s spine. So Martin had lied to her even about that?

“Do not be unkind to her, Veronica,” chided the Empress. “Can you not see that she is in shock? Obviously there has been a terrible misunderstanding.”

Rhosmari felt a sudden urge to say something that would throw the Empress off balance. If she could break through that charming veneer, even for an instant, she would know the truth. “Martin told me that beneath the glamour you wear, you are old and wrinkled,” she said, and then for good measure, “He thinks that you were once human.”

But the Empress’s patient expression did not alter. “He is right,” she said. “In my youth I lost a magical contest with a rival, who thought the best way to humiliate me was to turn me into a human and send me away, helpless and friendless, into the world. It was many years before I had the chance to regain my powers and become a faery again, and in that time I learned such things about human cruelty as I hope you will never know.”

Her eyes turned wistful as she brushed her fingers down her cheek. “Forgive me my vanity. Since my own beauty has been lost, I wear instead the face of my old mentor Snowdrop, the faery who first showed confidence in my abilities and taught me what it meant to be a queen. She died a long time ago, and to see her in the mirror now . . . is an inspiration to me.”

Rhosmari bowed her head, the last of her defiance fading. Slowly she unfolded the napkin from beside her plate and spread it out upon her lap; then she picked up her spoon, and began to eat.

•••

“My dear, you look tired,” said the Empress the next morning when Rhosmari came down to breakfast. The Blackwings and Veronica had left the house early, so the two of them were alone. “Did you not sleep well? Would another bedroom be more to your liking?”

Mechanically Rhosmari helped herself to a pastry, a shake of the head her only answer. She had lain awake half the night trying to think of ways to escape from the Empress, and the other half wondering if she ought to. Every time she thought of a reason not to trust the Empress, she was reminded of all the reasons she could not trust the rebels either.

Garan had stolen the Stone and disgraced his own family. Timothy had a disturbing taste for violence–among other things, she now remembered, he had admitted to hitting another boy at school for no good reason at all. And Linden had got all her information about the Empress from Rob, who had deceived and betrayed the Empress much as Martin had deceived and betrayed Rhosmari. There was no one she could be sure of, not any more.

But she had not forgotten that for all the hospitality the Empress had shown her, she was still a prisoner. Mustering her courage, Rhosmari looked straight at the Empress and asked, “When will you let me go?”

“Go where?” asked the Empress. “To the rebels? Surely you understand I cannot allow that. It would be folly to give you into the hands of my enemies.”

“Then—” Rhosmari’s fingers clenched around her fork. “Let me go home, instead. If I leave at once, there might still be time to convince the others not to come looking for the Stone. They may be willing to talk to you instead, and come to an agreement—”

Then she stopped, struck by a new and unpleasant thought. What if the Children of Rhys joined forces with the Empress against the rebels? What would happen to Garan and his fellow exiles then?

“Others?” asked the Empress. “You mean that more of the Children of Rhys have followed you into my domain?”

“Perhaps not yet,” Rhosmari said hastily. “My–one of the Elders believed that it would take a large party of our people to convince the rebels to give up the Stone, but when I left nothing had been decided. So if you send me back right away—”

But the Empress shook her head. “I need you here,” she said. “You are my only source of knowledge about the Children of Rhys, and there is still so much I want to learn. If your people come looking for you, and some of them are willing to negotiate–then perhaps I could afford to spare you. But I need to be sure I can rely on the Children of Rhys not to interfere in my affairs.”

So she was not just a prisoner and a slave, she was a hostage. “I see,” said Rhosmari. “Please excuse me,” and with that she got up from the table and left the room.

•••

The Empress retired to her study after breakfast, though with the double doors closed and only the occasional creak or rustle coming from within, it was impossible to know exactly what she was doing there. After a few minutes Rhosmari gave up listening and retreated to her bedroom. But, as the morning wore on she was startled out of her reverie by thumping noises and loud, wracking sobs coming from the direction of the stairs. She threw open her door to find two strange faeries marching into the study, dragging a wild-eyed, struggling female between them. But before she could ask what they were doing, the double doors slammed shut.

Rhosmari retreated and sat numbly on the end of her bed as the distant cries and pleas escalated to a shriek–then ended in abrupt silence. Rhosmari’s stomach convulsed. What had the Empress done to the other faery? Had she turned her into a slave, or something even worse?

Dreading the answer, but determined to know it nonetheless, she watched the study doors closely for the next half-hour. But when the familiar sweet voice called, “Rhosmari, would you come here, please?” and she rose to obey, she found no one in the study but herself and the Empress. The other faeries–or the two males at least–must have Leaped away.

“You should not spend so much time brooding in your room,” the Empress chided her. “You have the freedom of the house; why not visit the library, or admire the paintings? There are some fine landscapes in the drawing room, and some excellent portraits as well.”

Like the one of Philip Waverley? Rhosmari wanted to ask, but held her tongue. The violence with which the painting had been destroyed made her think it might be dangerous even to mention it. Especially after what she had just heard.

“You must have found all that commotion quite alarming,” said the Empress, as though she had guessed Rhosmari’s thoughts. “I apologize for subjecting you to it, but there are still a considerable number of renegade faeries who left my service after the Battle of Sanctuary, and who have little to do other than wander about and cause trouble. Many come quietly once they are found, having realized that they were happier and better cared for under my rule. But others are . . . not as reasonable.”

She twisted a ringlet of hair around her finger, her gaze distant. Then she straightened up and said, “But never mind that. Go and explore the house, and see what you can find to amuse yourself, until I am ready to speak with you again.”

Put like that, it was an order. Hating her own unhesitating obedience, Rhosmari turned and left the study, shutting the doors behind her.